He watched as she shuffled back off to the bed. Her sitting on the blankets instead of curling back under them was a good sign that she might be cooperative. While she figured on a comfortable position, he examined the ice bucket. It was empty, unusual for a person who was all but addicted to her ice water before bed. Taking an unused glass he walked off to the bathroom sink and filled it from the tap.
Jennifer had condenced herself into a sitted position, but one of extreme defense: her knees tucked under her chin, arms wrapped around her legs. He sat down next to her and offered her the glass of water. When she had taken it and sipped it, he placed his arm around her shoulders, half expecting the offending limb to be shrugged off instantly. It wasn’t. “Jen, darling, what’s wrong?”
There was a pause. Face kept hidden, she might have been fighting back tears, but it was hard for him to tell. Taking one long, steading breath she came back with a slightly drawn out “Everything.”